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Fawn takes a step forward. "Not going to share, Bastard?"

He has to .. pause at that. Fawn certainly had just killed a man to get his own memories. Would he do the same to hear his teammates? Or read them?

What a delightful thought.

"Do you want this story, Fawn?" The Bastard asks, "You did seem keen to ... trade for them in you other life."

Fawn's chin tilts defiantly. He makes a jerky gesture toward himself, toward all the blood sprayed across his shirt "I already paid for it."

Oh, oh is that how it's going?

"Would you say then, that you're entitled to Wisp's as well?"

Wisp's paper sure is sitting out on the table. And Wisp himself is still absent - though both men can dimly hear him rattling about outside, water sloshing as he fills a couple buckets.

Edited 2020-04-09 21:01 (UTC)

Fawn snorts derisively. "I don't think Wisp is quite as driven to secrecy as you are."

He picks up Wisp's statement between two fingers. "Are you sure? I imagine we all have a few skeletons in our closet." And folds this one as well.

Fawn jerks forward snatching for the paper. "Give that back! He's going to notice if you steal it. "

"Hold-" He hisses. The Bastard takes a step back, shoving it in his pocket, hurriedly. "I'm merely-" Fawn really only has a second to act here.

It's a second in which Fawn doesn't act. He freezes. That Bastard's thought has found it's way to Fawn - what exactly is he going to do?

Kill his team mate?

Without the pressure of the game, the notion that he might physically overpower Elias seems ludicrous. If Wisp doesn't notice his own is missing - it's not Fawn's problem.

And perhaps -

Perhaps That Bastard had a point.

And... the Bastard seems to relax at that. Intimidated? ... Yes, actually. Maybe a little.

It doesn't last long before that smug composure slithers back in.

"Done? Good. I'll give it to him if he asks."

"It would do him some good to be a bit.. more assertive, don't you think?"

Jon grimaces, but his fingers uncurl from their clench. It's annoying to agree with the Bastard on anything. "Magnanimous of you," he mutters as the door opens.

Wisp struggles with a pair of buckets, dragging them back over towards Fawn. And ... stops after a moment? Sensing some tension here.

"Wh - what happened while I was out?" he asks, looking between the two of them.

Edited 2020-04-10 00:01 (UTC)

"Just getting to know each other," the Bastard answers. He steps out of Wisps way, and settles to lean against the far wall, watching.

"Perhaps you should groom our scrappy one outside."

Wisp looks down at the buckets, than back up at Fawn. The terminology is ... terrible, but. Not wholly inaccurate?

"I - I suppose this would be less messy outside," he admits after a moment. "Er, if you want to, Fawn?"

He hasn't noticed that his paper is missing. Yet.

"I can bathe myself, thank you." the Bastard gets most of the glare; Fawn strides over to Wisp to take the buckets. The memory has thoroughly knocked him out of his initial fugue, and he's back to his normal self. He feels... restless, and less concerned about the blood, now, but there isn't anything else to do but bathe.

"Perhaps the two of you can spend some time bonding while I'm out."

There's a look of real fear on Wisp's face for a moment at the prospect of bonding any further with Bastard. But. He can't very well insist on - on bathing Fawn, good lord. So he just presses his lips shut and glares at Bastard, staring at --

His. Pocket. And the bits of paper poking out. "Wh - is that my memory? What are you doing with that?"

Damn. Faster than he'd anticipated.

"It seems Fawn had laid claim on it, having paid for it in blood, so to speak. Mine as well." He sidesteps lightly, after all, they haven't been ASKED for.

Now Wisp whirls towards Fawn, a little less high strung but still not particularly pleased. "That's not fair," he says. "It's - it's my memory, even if. Even if I wasn't helpful."

He's not going to argue even for a moment that he deserves it.

Fawn snatches for the bucket, sighing with irritation.. "I was going to see if it had anything useful in it, but I highly doubt that." Fawn makes a sharp, indicative gesture toward the Bastard and the statements. "By all means. I can always get it out of you later."

"How presumptuous," the Bastard purrs, casting a paternal smile at both of them. "Does that mean you didn't find your own useful? Or more of a character judgement."

Wisp, meanwhile, flushes a bit, not enjoying having his self-deprecation used against him. Or the insinuation (aimed at him or not) that he'll just have it pulled out later.

"Just - just let me have mine, thanks," he says stiffly, reaching to try and take a paper from the Bastard's pocket.

Fawn ignores Bastard except for one backward glare, snatching the water and leaving.

And Fawn's sloshy, huffy exit is enough of a distraction that the Bastard doesn't react quickly enough to stop Wisp. Though, really, he's a bit surprised Wisp had that much initiative.

He quickly checks his pocket to make sure HIS memory is still there.

Already underestimating Wisp, Bastard? You might regret that one day.

But - this time, Wisp has only taken one paper, because he's a nice person, so there's one left for the Bastard to still take. Wisp himself backs up a few paces, still glaring at the Bastard for taking it to begin with. "Right then," he says, looking down at his page with a huff. "Let's get this over with before you steal it again."

And he reads through the statement, memories flooding back ... but instead of the memory he should have gotten (which involved a lively round of baked goods with the other newly "promoted" Archival assistants), he sees something different.